


1900 Miles Away

by AsheTarasovich (natalieashe), Boffin1710



Series: Can't Drown My Demons, They Know How To Swim [51]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Boys Will Be Boys, Home is where the pasta is, M/M, The things we don’t say, espionage in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 15:18:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17205833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/AsheTarasovich, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/pseuds/Boffin1710
Summary: Much more than he ever expected...





	1900 Miles Away

**Q…**

I'm wandering the kitchen at 3am, rummaging through the refrigerator and the cupboards looking for something to cook.  I am ravenous. Things have been so chaotic in Q Branch the last week, I cannot actually remember the last time I ate a real meal that wasn't something out of a takeaway carton or what day it was that I ate.  But, I definitely have the caffeine buzz going in full force.  
  
Suddenly there is that oh so familiar tiny pop of a connection being opened to my ear wing, which has followed me home tonight.  “How is Morocco this eve? Hotel up to your standards? Oh and by the way, this is a secure channel." And then he begins to chastise me for still being at work at this time of the morning.    
  
"I am not at work.   And I'll have you know that you interrupted my attempt to feed myself."  I sass back at him as I start pulling odd things out of the refrigerator. "Nothing near as adventurous as I am sure you have for supper."  
  
There is that deep chuckle in the other end of the comms that makes me wish he was here to help me cook and not almost 1900 miles away.  Makes me realise just how quiet the flat is when it's just me here. "So, want to help me cook something while we chat for a few moments?"

  **James…**

“Use the handheld mesh strainer or the tongs.  You want to keep the pasta water for now in case you need to thin the sauce a tad, Q.” He could hear him rummaging around in the cupboard for the needed strainer.  “Be careful not to burn yourself.”  
  
“I may not be a well trained sous chef, 007 but I am not completely ignorant in the kitchen.”  
  
“Whatever you say Quartermaster,” Bond chuckled on the other end of the phone.  “Remember to throw the warmed peas back in also about now. A little veg never hurt anyone, especially you.” Bond leaned back in his chair on the balcony of his hotel room watching the Moroccan sky, drink in hand.  He envisioned himself ghosting along behind Q in the kitchen directing his movements, fingers lightly touching his elbow or caressing across his shoulders. These were some of the moments he missed the most when he was out in the field.    
  
“Fuck!”  the explicative interrupted his meandering mind.  
  
“Burnt yourself didn’t you.”  
  
“Shut it you. It’s nothing.” The sound of running water in the background meant to was a painful enough burn to require some attention though.    
  
“Be sure you’ve stirred and coated the pasta well with the pan drippings before you pour in the egg and cheese mixture.   Don’t want scrambled eggs.”  
  
“Eggs and Parmigiano-Reggiano whisked together and into the pan they go...  want to see this magnificent creation?” Seconds later his phone pinged with a photo of an amazing looking pan of Carbonara if he did say so himself.    
  
“Well done Quartermaster.  Mission accomplished. Nothing set on fire and there should be enough left for you to feed yourself tomorrow.   Please return all your equipment in one piece to the dishwasher,” mimicking Q’s patented comment for him during pre-mission briefs, “so I don’t have a disastrous mess waiting for me.”  
  
“You are such a wanker, James.”  
  
“Eat and get some sleep Q.  We’ll touch base tomorrow.”  
  
“Should be sharing this.”  Plates rattled in the cupboard.  Drawers opened for utensils. Bare feet padded across the tiled kitchen floor heading for the lounge.  “Ta for spending time with me. A tad quiet around here.” Q mumbled around a mouthful of pasta.  
  
“Mission should only take a few days. Eat. Sleep Q.” I miss you too Bond thought to himself. Much more than he ever expected… as he silenced the connection between them.  

 


End file.
